


Do You Got Room for One More Troubled Soul?

by throwupsparkles



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Hiatus, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, MCR breakup, Polyamory, Recovery, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:21:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25414603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/throwupsparkles/pseuds/throwupsparkles
Summary: Pete untangles himself from Patrick and frowns. “You’re leaving?”Mikey falters a little. “I mean I thought…”Patrick looks up at him and there’s a, not sparkle really, but just something in his eyes, intrigue maybe, but brighter. “Stay.”
Relationships: Patrick Stump/Mikey Way/Pete Wentz, Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz
Comments: 21
Kudos: 104





	Do You Got Room for One More Troubled Soul?

**Author's Note:**

> This always happens. I started out just wanting to explore what kind of dynamic Pete/Mikey/Patrick would have...and then angst stuff happened and it got a lot longer than I originally planned. So...*shoves fic in your face* enjoy this self-indulgent trash :)

Mikey hasn’t done this in years. 

And age really hadn’t been kind to his knobby knees, especially when they were pressed against a grimy tiled bathroom floor. And fuck, he doesn’t remember his jaw hurting this much, or it being this sloppy. Though that could be more his fault. Or the tequila’s. He was never really great at handling his tequila, and that was probably why he took shots of it earlier that night. It really was a self-destructive kind of night. 

“Dude, seriously?”

Mikey blinks and looks up at the blonde who’s name he had already forgotten. He was clearly put off by Mikey’s sloppiness tonight. Mikey chuckles a little, because he’s usually  _ really _ good at this. Well, or at least he used to be. He doesn’t remember the last time he’d sucked cock, was it Jon during that one leg with Panic? Or maybe it was Gabe. Probably Gabe.

“Are you going to do something or just keep slobbering over it?”

Mikey frowns and, oh, yeah, he’s sorta just been mouthing at this guys pretty mediocre cock. Mikey’s not really one to judge, a cock is a cock and he’s never been picky in the past, so maybe it’s the tequila talking when he says, “Just not really doing it for me.”

He hears the crunch before he really feels it and before he can react, the guy is already out the door. And  _ ow _ , that fucking hurts. He feels the drip, drip, coming off his chin and sees little red droplets on his jeans. 

Mikey knows he should probably get off the bathroom floor now, should probably get up and wash his face and maybe call someone to give him a ride home, or hospital depending on how bad that punch really was. But his phone is at home filled with unanswered texts from Gerard on his kitchen counter next to his one-year sobriety chip. 

He groans as he gets up, his knees locking a little and gravity pushes harder on his nose, making it throb. He goes to the mirror and sees the blood pooling under his nose, sees the discoloration and how it’s already starting to swell. “Fuck,” he mutters, trying to clean up his face as much as possible, before walking out to the bar. 

The bartender gives him a wild look, her eyebrows shooting up. “Oh my god, are you ok?”

“Can I borrow a phone?”

“Yeah, sure, hon,” she says, handing him her cell phone. 

He sighs, knowing that he should call Gerard. But the tequila doesn’t have that strong of a hold on him, or maybe it does, because he calls the only other phone number he has memorized. 

He half worries that Pete won’t answer since it’s not a number he’ll recognize, but he grins when he hears, “Hello?”

“Pete.”

“Mikeyway?”

“Um,” he says, frowning a little even though his heart is pounding in his chest. He hasn’t heard that in so long, the way his name sounds like a secret on Pete’s tongue. If he closes his eyes he can almost feel the summer heat on the back of his neck, burning the place where Pete’s lips had just been. “Can you come get me?”   


“Where are you?” Mikey hears rustling, like he’s putting on shoes and trying to find his keys.

“Um,” he frowns and the bartender smiles and writes out an address on a cocktail napkin, sliding it over to him. He repeats it into the phone then sighs in relief when Pete tells him he’ll be there in fifteen. 

He hands back the phone and asks for a whiskey neat, even though he knows his stomach will hate him for mixing whiskey and tequila. He’s not in his fucking twenties anymore, but he doesn’t really seem to be feeling very nice towards his body tonight. 

He sips on the whiskey, pretending it’s numbing his face, but that only really happens when he mixes his booze with pills and he’s not sure he’s that fucked tonight yet. And probably won’t be since Pete is on his way. For one very selfish minute, he wishes that his Pete was coming to get him, the one that he used to share Xanax bars with and lay in piles of dirty stage clothes on the floor of someone else’s bus. He misses the easiness of breathing during that summer, liked that he could share air with Pete and not feel so solitary. 

Pete liked broken things, except himself. Mikey never really understood that, how he could see the beauty in everyone else’s cracks but neglected his own. Pete was beautiful. And Mikey tried to ration with himself that only he saw the beauty, everyone else just saw the eyeliner and the good hair. Mikey saw the light in his eyes that still shone bright when he was crying, like there was a part of him that could never die out. And Mikey had been envious of that, not in the ugly way, but just, it’s hard to explain the kind of love that coils so much it starts to look like a monster. 

“Hey.”

Mikey sets his almost empty glass down and turns, and, well fuck, that’s not really fair is it? For Pete to be standing there looking all cozy in his soft sweatshirt and jogging pants, his hair mused like he had just gotten out of bed even though Mikey knows better. He looks good. So fucking good and warm and

“Easy there,” Pete murmurs, and Mikey doesn’t even remember walking into his arms, but they tighten, “Let’s get you home.”

Mikey shakes his head. 

There’s a pause then, “Ok, we’ll go back to my place?”

Mikey nods, but doesn’t let go. Not even when Pete starts walking them out of the bar and out into the LA air, which isn’t cold at all, but Pete rubs his hands up and down Mikey’s arms like he’s warming him up. 

When they get to Pete’s car, Pete opens the door and buckles him in, which normally Mikey would complain about being coddled, but there’s something nice about not having to think right now. To just shut off and let someone else do things for him, to think for him and, “I think we should take you to the hospital first,” Pete says, “That looks broken.”

“S’fine,” Mikey slurs. 

Pete doesn’t frown. For someone who used to wear his expressions on his sleeve, he’s doing a really good job and keeping his face neutral through this whole experience. “It’s just a broken nose, in and out,” Pete promises and Mikey doesn’t really have the energy to argue so Pete smiles reassuringly and gets into the driver’s seat. 

Mikey leans his head against the window and watches the buildings and cars swirl by. He wishes he was on something so that they could blur into nothing. He likes it when everything just sort of muddles together and he doesn’t see anything. Sometimes the world is too big for him, like it’s swallowing him whole.

And then Pete takes his hand and squeezes before pulling into the parking lot of the ER. Mikey hates hospitals, and he sways a bit as he gets out of the car. They make it about halfway before Mikey hunches over and throws up on his shoes. He didn’t really like them anyway, but he feels like he’s going to be sick again with the way his toes feel squishy. 

“Alright,” Pete says softly, leading him inside and to the first restroom they can find. He picks him up and sets him down on the sink like he’s a child, then wets paper towels in the other sink before wiping off his shoes. 

“You don’t…” Mikey starts but Pete isn’t going to listen anyway. 

“I have a kid,” Pete says, “Puke doesn’t really scare me anymore.”

“I’m thirty two.”

“Just a number, baby,” Pete says softly, taking his shoes off so he can pull off his socks that got a little gross since his converses have holes in them from too much wear. Pete pitches them then wipes his feet down with more wet towels. “Let’s get your face fixed, then we’ll go home, ok?”

Mikey doesn’t say anything, doesn’t nod, but it sounds like a good idea to him. Pete must still be able to read him, because he slips his shoes back on his feet then helps him down. 

The wait isn’t too bad, but Mikey isn’t sure if that’s because he’s drifting against Pete. He’s as warm as he remembers, like the personification of summer. “Come on, Mikeyway,” he says gently when his name gets called--Mikey likes the way Pete said it better. 

He tries not to focus too much on what the doctor is saying, just watches the way her lipstick clumps together between her lips as she talks. And then there’s soft hands on his face, another crunch and Mikey doubles over like he’s going to throw up again. 

He’s at that point in the night where exhaustion and the alcohol is pulling him under, so it doesn’t really surprise him that he misses the whole transition between the hospital and Pete’s house. He can’t even walk, he just feels like a bag of bones in a flesh canvas. Pete lets him hang on him, his legs more so dragging along instead of shuffling as they walk inside. 

There’s a sleepy, “Pete?”

And then Mikey really starts to check out, only getting snitbits of reality poking through his subconscious--the feeling of carpet moving against his bare feet, Pete must have taken his shoes off again; the hushed voices of “is he alright?...will be...call his brother?...need to talk to...sleep it off...in the morning”; and then the soft slide of a blanket being pulled up to his chin, a soft hand on his forehead lingering before a click of a door. 

*

Mikey is reminded why sobriety is pretty sweet the next morning when it feels like there’s little aliens mining for gold in his cranium. Which, coupled with the fact that his whole face is throbbing and his stomach is doing that annoying flipping thing, really, really fucking sucks. But he can tell that it’s late and he remembers enough of last night to know that he needs to thank Pete and not hide in his guest room any longer. 

He slips out of bed carefully and opens the bedroom door, listening first. He hears the television on somewhere in the house, but no voices, so he slides out of his room and walks down the hall. He’s met with Patrick sitting on the couch, flipping through channels with a bored expression. His face lightens when he sees Mikey. “Hey,” he says, and Mikey is pretty impressed that he doesn’t make it awkward. 

“Hey,” Mikey says, hovering anyway, looking for Pete. 

Patrick is a nice enough guy. He talked with him a bit during Warped to know that he’s a huge music buff and that he likes anything from the 80’s, though not as much as Pete. He looks good, Mikey remembers feeling a little worried when he saw the photos from  _ Soul Punk _ , because his expressions were all too similar to the way that Gerard would get when he was spiralling. And he had thought about calling Pete about it, but it wasn’t his place anymore and he really wasn’t sure how amicable the hiatus really was. 

“Pete went to get coffee,” Patrick offers, gesturing to the couch. 

Mikey sits and leans back against it. 

“Do you want some ibuprofen?”

“Not yet,” Mikey mumbles, closing his eyes. 

He smiles a little when he notices the sound on the television quieting a little. It’s a little while before he hears the door opening, but he doesn’t open his eyes yet, out of embarrassment of self preservation, he’s not exactly sure yet. 

But then there’s a hand on his knee, and it’s Pete, so he opens his eyes and smiles softly at the coffee being held out to him. Mikey takes it and tries not to let it show how much it means that Pete still remembers how he takes his coffee. 

He also realizes that Patrick isn’t on the couch anymore. Pete must have seen him frown because he clarifies, “He went to go work on some stuff.”

“New album?”   


“I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

Mikey almost smiles, because it almost feels like old times. 

“I called your brother.”

Mikey winces. 

“But,” Pete offers, “I managed to talk him into not busting down my door. I told him I was taking care of you.”

Mikey takes a sip of his coffee, lets the sugar sit on his tongue before swallowing. “I’m alright.”

“Last night you weren’t.”

“That was last night.”

“How many last nights have there been?”

Mikey shuffles uncomfortably under his gaze, and that never used to be a thing. Mikey never used to be scared under Pete. He’s not scared, that’s not the right word. He feels vulnerable. And that wasn’t anything new, but it feels new like this. Everything seems so unsure and that’s just the story of Mikey’s life lately so he should be getting used to this. Should be, but he’s not. He just needs everything to slow down so he can catch up. 

“Mikey,” Pete says gently, searching his eyes and the neutral expression from last night is broken now. Mikey can see the concern painted across Pete’s face like the make up he used to wear when they were younger. Mikey wonders if he could lick it off too.  “Tell me what’s going on.”

“My band is breaking up.”

“Oh,” Pete whispers, frowning deeply like Mikey just told him Fall Out Boy was ending and, well, Pete would understand how Mikey is feeling. If there was anyone in the world who could understand how Mikey is feeling, it’s Pete Wentz. 

“And I got divorced.”

“I know,” Pete whispers. 

He knows, he fucking knows because that was him not so long ago. 

“How did you fix it?” Mikey asks, and he doesn’t mean for it to come out as pitiful as it does, but he can’t swallow the words back down now. He just watches them hover out there in front of Pete as he tries to figure out what to say. Mikey’s always loved Pete’s way with words, loved how he considered everything he said before he said it. 

Pete takes his hand and watches as Pete rubs each of Mikey’s callused fingers between his. He wonders if the calluses will disappear since they won’t touch bass strings anymore, if the years of his life will erase off his fingertips.

“You can stay as long as you want,” Pete finally says.

And yeah, Pete still is good with words. 

*

Mikey had only planned on staying the rest of the afternoon, but the sun is already setting and he feels comfortable on Pete’s couch with his feet in his lap. He likes watching him and Patrick work together. It’s the strangest thing because they’re totally communicating, but there’s no words being uttered. Just little looks, a nod here and there, a sigh, Patrick sucking his tongue at the roof of his mouth, Pete chuckling fondly. And then they’re playing part of a song for Mikey. 

They order enough take out to feed an army and Mikey hasn’t had this much sodium since Alicia left him, he doesn’t really remember the last time he even ate this much. Gerard was always coming over with food, but Mikey would just push things around on his plate and try not to look at Gerard’s expression. And Gerard really didn’t have a leg to stand on after the shit he pulled for the last year or so. 

It takes him by surprise, the hunger that pushes through Mikey’s body. It’s like it’s just woken up. And maybe this house is magical, maybe he only feels human here. Pete’s house looks like him. Mikey spends an hour just walking around to look at all the photos on the walls, all the stupid toys he collects--though he can’t really talk, the bits of tour life he’s preserved from all those years ago. There’s a My Chem flyer from Bullets era in Pete’s den and Mikey isn’t sure if he’s crying because he’s sad or happy. Sometimes it feels like both, or like a new emotion. One he doesn’t know the word for, Pete probably does. 

He traces the date, thinks back to how young he was. How young Gerard was. Back when Mikey was his whole world, when he used to make promises and keep them. Back when the band was made for Mikey instead of the record label. 

It’s always hard to romanticize that time. They were all really fucked up back then, even though they were happier than they are now. At least that’s how it is for Mikey. Some days he wishes he could go back and tell himself that this is the good times, he’s living through the best days of his life and he should just put those pills down so he will actually remember the faces that were there in the beginning. So he could hold their smiles in his memory instead of the sea of cellphones that stick in his mind instead. 

Pete doesn’t say anything when Mikey curls back on the couch, his face splotchy from crying. Patrick looks up from his laptop, Mikey feels his gaze on him, but then he ducks his head back down and they all fall into their respective worlds that somehow still felt connected in the way that Mikey needed.

They mostly let him sleep until Pete shakes him awake, pushing a Wii controller into his hands and making him sit up to play MarioKart with them. Patrick is god awful and it’s really funny to watch him get more and more frustrated as they continue. Pete keeps throwing bananas at him just to hear him swear, and Mikey wonders if he should stop laughing because it seems to be egging Pete on. 

“This is why I don’t play with you!” Patrick huffs, tossing his controller on the floor.

Pete leans over to kiss his cheek and Mikey smiles softly at the blush coloring Patrick’s cheeks, at the way the anger leaves him the moment Pete’s lips touches his skin. Patrick still pretends he’s put off though, arms crossed and his eyes narrowed but Pete giggles and Patrick's pouty lips turn up a little. 

Mikey plays a few more rounds before getting up to leave. Pete untangles himself from Patrick and frowns. “You’re leaving?”

He falters a little. “I mean I thought…”

Patrick looks up at him and there’s a, not sparkle really, but just  _ something _ in his eye, intrigue maybe, but brighter. “Stay.”

Pete looks at Patrick then back at Mikey and nods. “Yeah, just for the night. We’ll make a blanket fort.”

“Do you have any green tea Kit-Kats?”

Pete scoffs. “Who do you think I am, Mikeyway?”

Pete has the best snacks, and he keeps pushing them onto Mikey like he knows he hasn’t been eating. And Patrick keeps finding more blankets to add to their fort before Pete chuckles and tells him that they’re making a fort not a damn army base. And they watch a bunch of horrible romantic comedies that Pete knows all the words to. 

Patrick exchanges fond looks with Mikey, like they’re both on the same wavelength in the world of Pete. And Mikey wonders if Patrick’s seen the beauty too. Thinks he has to, and it doesn’t really hurt Mikey as much as he thought it would to know that someone else is in on the secret. 

He thinks that they’re beautiful together, if they are together. It’s always hard to tell with Pete, but Mikey’s pretty sure that they either are or want to be and are just being fucking stupid. Because Pete keeps looking at Patrick like he’s the sun that Pete is spinning around. And it makes Mikey dizzy in the best way, in the way it feels to spin round and round on a swing and fall into the gravel laughing. 

Patrick falls asleep first because he’s not an insomniac like Pete or depressed like Mikey. Pete rolls onto his side and stares at Mikey, ignoring the way the DVD menu keeps replaying over and over. 

“You and Patrick?” Mikey asks softly. 

Pete grins. “Obvious?”

“A little.”

“Ok?”

“Yeah,” Mikey says, meaning it.

*

“Jesus, what happened to your face?” Gerard asks as soon as he walks into his house. 

Mikey regrets giving him a key. 

He just shrugs and turns up the volume on the television, it’s the part in  _ Saw  _ where the guy is hacking off his leg and he knows he’s being a bit emo, but he can’t help it. Gerard sighs and takes the remote from Mikey’s hand, turning it off and sitting on the coffee table in front of him. 

“I’m worried about you. We all are,” Gerard says gently.

“We?”

“Ray and Frank,” Gerard says, frowning a little and it only deepens when Mikey scoffs. “Mikes, we’re still a family, it’s not--”

“Family doesn’t break up,” Mikey mutters, getting up and walking into his bedroom. He shuts the door and locks it before laying flat on his bed. 

*

Mikey starts spending more time at Pete and Patrick’s house, so much so that they just leave the door unlocked for him. 

“That’s really dangerous,” Mikey frowned when it happened the first time, “You guys still have crazy fans.”

“They don’t care about us anymore,” Patrick shrugged. 

“They will when the album drops.”

“We’ll give you a key then,” Pete said, adding more icing on his Toaster Strudel, “Want one?”

“No thanks,” Mikey said, pulling out a chair at the kitchen bar. Patrick put one in the toaster for him anyway and grabbed a soda out of the fridge. 

“I think I should start chipping in for groceries,” Mikey said, opening the soda. 

Patrick shook his head as Pete shrugged, Patrick hit him with the empty box of Toaster Strudels and Pete laughed, “I’m kidding. He doesn’t have a job anymore.”

There was a moment of Patrick looking livid and Pete’s eyes widening. 

Then Mikey was laughing.

He knows that he shouldn’t be leaning on them like this, but he doesn’t really know what else he’s supposed to be doing. Probably buying replacement furniture for the pieces that Alicia took when she moved out. He doesn’t have a dining room table anymore, but he’s not doing much entertaining so it’s not a huge priority right now. 

Patrick comes over when Pete is out with Bronx at the zoo one day and frowns at Mikey’s empty walls. “You’re brother is an artist, couldn’t he put some stuff on these walls?”

Mikey doesn’t tell him that him and Gerard aren’t really talking right now and his silence sorta fills it in for Patrick anyway. He’s been around Pete too long, he’s starting to be able to speak Mikeyway. 

So Patrick ushers Mikey into his car and drives him to a thrift store and they spend the afternoon going through different wall art. Some are really awful, things that were probably in a Walmart during the 90s, but Patrick finds a cool metal art piece that sorta looks like an octopus if Mikey turns his head a certain way. And then they spend a long time in the vinyl section, Mikey buys a bunch just to stick on his wall and Patrick hums in agreement. 

Patrick also ends up talking Mikey into buying this awful teal blazer that looks so bad it looks good. It’s nothing that Mikey would normally wear, and he thinks that’s why he ends up buying it. He’s not really sure who he is anymore, maybe he’s a guy who likes blazers now. 

And then they go to get dimsum at this little hole in the wall that Patrick likes. They argue over whether or not to try the curried squid, but Mikey talks Patrick into being adventurous, which is hard to do when he doesn’t even eat barbeque sauce. But Mikey is starting to learn that Patrick just likes to argue to seem like he’s in control. He’s seen Pete challenge that, seen them really scream at each other and Mikey’s learned not to leave on those nights. Not because they would hurt each other, but after the first time he left, it made things worse because they thought they had upset him. 

“No, I just thought it was a private thing,” Mikey had mumbled on the phone when Pete called later that night.

“We were arguing over matching socks,” Pete reminded him. 

“Yeah, but he yelled really loud,” Mikey said.

“It’s from being a lead singer and no one listening to him,” Pete said, and Mikey didn’t get it at first until he came back that night and Patrick looked really bashful. And Mikey remembered how shy Patrick had seemed back when they were younger, and he knows that feeling. Where his quietness got mistaken for him having nothing to say. 

Patrick just needs to be heard, and Pete makes sure he has his stage. 

Mikey’s learning too.

“Oh shut up,” Patrick grumbles when he reaches for a second helping of curried squid and Mikey grins at him. 

“I didn’t say anything,” Mikey reminds him. 

“You have the same look that Pete does,” Patrick says. 

_ Only when we look at you. _ And Mikey isn’t sure where that thought came from, but he shoves it down with another taro dumpling. “You don’t hang out with him and Bronx?”

Patrick shrugs and takes a drink of his tea. “It’s not really a thing, but it is, you know?”

Mikey nods. 

“We’re not...I mean we sleep together and I’m over there all the time--”

“I thought you lived there,” Mikey frowns. 

Patrick laughs, “Yeah, I guess I do.”

“You don’t know?”

Patrick’s cheeks tinge pink and Mikey has to focus on not smiling fondly. “It’s complicated.”

Mikey snorts. “With as many relationships as Pete’s had, he hasn’t gotten any better.”

“Were you guys... I mean, sorry, it’s not really my business.”

Mikey shrugs. “We fooled around, but it was a summer thing.”

Patrick’s eyes soften and he sets down his chopsticks. “It really wasn’t.”

Mikey knows this. He was there when the separation happened. It wasn’t even a breakup because they weren’t really dating. They were just friends who liked to fool around. And Pete had that whole “gay above the waist” thing that he kept saying and it confused the fuck out of Mikey since he kept getting his cock stuck in Pete’s mouth, though Pete would always say “My mouth is above the waist” and Mikey would roll his eyes. 

But it still hurt when their text messages got further and further apart and then they both got married and neither of them went to each other’s weddings. They were friendly enough to each other when they would see each other at events or whatever, but it wasn’t the same. Pete’s eyes had burned like that summer but Mikey still felt cold. 

“I just want him happy,” Mikey says, picking at his napkin, “And he does, you know, seem happy with you.”

Patrick looks unsure but he offers a soft smile and then he asks what they should order to go for Pete. And Pete gives them the oddest look when they come back to Pete’s house with takeout bags and a cup of iced papaya tea. He kisses Patrick’s cheek, taking the tea, but his eyes are glued to Mikey’s.

*

Ray comes over with a paper bag full of groceries. 

Mikey frowns, but lets him in and follows him into the kitchen. “Um, what are you doing?”

“Gerard says you don’t have anything in your fridge.”

“When has Gerard been here?”

Ray blushes, ducking his head into the fridge. 

“Ray?”

“He might be coming by when he doesn’t see your car parked outside,” Ray says, “Which apparently has been a lot.”

Mikey isn’t sure if the heat in his chest is warm and fuzzy brotherly love or bitter hot annoyance. He sighs, then wrinkles his nose when he sees Ray set a carton of orange juice in the fridge. “I don’t like pulp.”

Ray rolls his eyes and crumples the bag. “Leave it for show so Gerard thinks you’re at least getting vitamin C.”

“So why isn’t he the one bringing me groceries?”

Ray arches his brow in that classic Mom Ray look that he always gives the guys when they’re being stupid. It brings back so many memories that Mikey feels a tsunami of tears coming. He turns his back to Ray so he can compose himself and he gets down a glass from the cabinet before filling it with water from the sink. 

“You should call him.”

Mikey just sips his water and counts in the back of his mind, something that Pete says helps him when he feels unhinged. 

“You should see someone,” Pete had told him one night when Patrick had gone off to bed. Pete had Mikey’s head in his lap, playing with his hair as they watched whatever cooking competition was on, too lazy to get up and find the remote. 

“I did for awhile,” Mikey said. 

“I know you did,” Pete answered, “It helped right?”

“At the time,” Mikey frowned, “But I was pretty low then.”

“You think you have to be contemplating suicide to get help?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Mikey sometimes forgot that Pete had called him the day after he left the Paramour. He had sat on Stacy’s couch on the phone with him for hours, just talking like they were still pink from the sun and kisses. And when he hung up the phone, Mikey wasn’t sure if his heart felt more mended or broken. 

“Do you want me to set something up for you?” Pete asked softly. 

“Not yet,” Mikey breathed, turning so his cheek was pressed against Pete’s thigh. 

Pete cupped his palm on the back of Mikey’s head, soothing and grounding. “Just tell me when.”

“I will.”   


“I know,” Pete whispered, and it felt good that Pete was starting to trust Mikey too. 

“Mikey?” Ray asks, bringing his thoughts back to the kitchen. 

“Not yet,” Mikey answers. 

*

He takes a guy home instead of trying to blow him in the bathroom, he learned his lesson the last time. But some part in his alcohol fueled mind thinks that maybe this is worse. That this is more dangerous and he could just hear the lecture that Gerard would give him if he ever found out. 

But he doesn’t think about that once his awkward limbs get tangled with a stranger’s. He tries not to focus on the fact that the guy won’t kiss him, and maybe that’s for the best. Mikey misses kissing though. 

He’s rough with Mikey. Not in a scary way, but enough to show Mikey that he doesn’t really care about him. That he’s going to be gone in the morning probably, maybe he won’t even spend the night. And Mikey tries not to think about what it means that he’s just staring up at the ceiling of his room as the guy next to him tries to catch his breath. Mikey didn’t even get off, but he’s not really complaining, that really wasn’t the point. He just wanted to feel someone pressed up against him for a bit. 

“You can stay.”

Though he regrets it the next morning when the guy shrugs on his denim jacket and walks out the door just in time for Pete to see him. Pete hesitates for a moment as he and Mikey watch him get into an Uber and disappear down the street. 

“Friend of yours?”

Mikey shrugs and steps to the side so Pete can come inside. He’s carrying coffee because it seems like neither of them think it’s enough to just show up empty handed. Mikey takes the coffee and sits on his couch, wincing a little, then blushing when Pete catches him. 

“He treat you ok?”

Mikey shrugs again. 

“I don’t like this,” Pete says, setting his coffee on the coffee table. “You’re not taking care of yourself at all.”

“I thought you liked broken things.”

Pete sighs and leans over to rest his elbows on his knees. “Not anymore.”

“Because you have Patrick.”

“Yeah,” Pete says, “Sorta.”

“Sorta?”

Pete chuckles, “You still push my buttons.”

“You have fun buttons to push,” Mikey says.

Pete leans back against the couch and looks at him, and Mikey wishes he’d stop looking at him like that. Like he’s sad for him, like he wants to kiss him, like he can just wrap him in a blanket and keep all the bad things away. And Mikey really wishes he didn’t want that. He really wishes he was someone stronger. Someone who could stand on his own two feet without needed a band to keep him upright, or Alicia, or Pete and Patrick. He doesn’t remember the last time he was able to do anything by himself and it makes him sick to think about it. 

“Patrick and I have been working on a song,” Pete says, “Patrick wants to know what you think of it.”

Mikey shrugs. “I’m not really someone you should ask.”

Pete furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”

“Gerard and Ray wrote the music, or Gerard and Frank worked on lyrics,” Mikey says, shrugging, “I just showed up and played what they told me to.”

“That’s not true,” Pete says softly, “I know you wrote things too.”

“Yeah, if Gerard gave me parameters or something.”

Pete’s quiet for a moment, and Mikey can hear his words turning over in Pete’s mind. Then he takes a deep breath and on the exhale he says, “Patrick asked for you, ok? And with Patrick...he’s not great at asking for things. He’s, honestly he’s worse than me when it comes with that and you sort of just have to learn to read past whatever he gives you.”

“Ok,” Mikey says, trying to follow. 

Pete holds his gaze for a moment then smiles, playfully and so very Pete. Mikey misses seeing that smile, and it seems more blinding now if at all possible. The way his eyes crinkle, his cheeks rounding at the top of his grin, his whole fucking face just lighting up like he’s a beacon for joy. Mikey never understood why Pete had to go through so much pain. Why he had to take pills to make sure he was able to get out of bed and that he had to talk to a professional to get those hurtful thoughts out of his head. He doesn’t think it should be possible for someone with a smile like that to have so much hurt inside of him. 

“Patrick is asking for you, Mikey,” Pete says softly. 

And that doesn’t really clear anything up, so Pete nudges his shoulder. “He likes you, I like you. We want you around. Stop sulking around here and fucking guys who are hurting you.”

“Um…”

“Come home with me.”

“I don’t…” Mikey starts, and he shakes his head like he’s trying to clear his swarming thoughts, but it doesn’t help. There’s too many flooding his mind that he can’t even differentiate them to make sense of anything. 

So Pete decides for him and takes his hand, pulling him off the couch. “Patrick’s ordering Indian food tonight,” he says casually as he leads Mikey out of his house. Pete locks up with the key that Mikey made for him and then takes his hand again and pulls him to Pete’s car. 

He doesn’t buckle him in like the night he took him home from the bar, but he opens the door for him then goes around to get in on the drivers side. And then he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t clear up anything for Mikey and it’s just so Pete. To do things that don’t make any sense and not offer any explanation. 

He just talks to Mikey about how Bronx is obsessed with giraffes right now and wants to know if he’ll be that tall one day. Which Pete thinks is hilarious since he and Ashlee aren’t very tall at all, but he couldn’t tell Bronx that. Pete’s parenting style is to let Bronx think he can do anything he wants, Pete says that he never got to dream big when he was a kid and wants to make sure Bronx doesn’t feel stifled like Pete did. 

“You turned out fine,” Mikey says softly, trying to follow the story and makes sense of what’s happening at the same time. 

Pete beams at him and pulls up to the house. He doesn’t get Mikey out of the car this time, confident that he’s going to follow. And really, logically, what is Mikey supposed to do? He’s not fifteen anymore, he doesn’t get all giddy when someone says that they like him, but the whole  _ stop fucking guys who hurt you _ is really making him dizzy. 

He just doesn’t want him to get hurt, Mikey reasons, there’s no other reason. Pete’s with Patrick and they’re happy making music with their band. And they just feel sorry for Mikey who has no one and no band and this is all just so he doesn’t go off the deep end and

He stops when he walks inside because Patrick is there and he’s beaming at Mikey like he really wants him there. Like he’s been waiting all day for Mikey to come home and suddenly he doesn’t need an explanation. He doesn’t need Pete to explain why he came to get Mikey, because the look on Patrick’s face is everything that Mikey needs to know. 

He’s wanted here. 

*

Mikey thinks about changing his locks out of spite because he can tell when Gerard’s been in his house. His mail is always carried in, sitting on his coffee table in a neat stack and there’s lunchables in the fridge that he didn’t buy. And the part of him that’s not mad at his brother laughs at the lunchables because leave it to Gerard to think that’s what a grown man needs to eat. 

“He could have gotten you those Kid Cuisines,” Pete says on the phone, “Ew, you remember the fish stick ones?”

“I loved the fish stick ones,” he hears Patrick mumble which makes Pete laugh and say, “You would, you have horrible taste.”

Mikey rolls his eyes and sets his phone on speaker so he can fold his laundry while listening to them bicker. He laughs when Patrick starts attacking Pete’s horrible hair metal band music taste and Pete mutters, “At least I don’t have the vinyl collection of a grandpa” and when they start arguing who is more hipster, Mikey jumps in with, “Uh, I think I’ve got you both beat since I have records hot glued to my wall right now.”

And they burst out laughing and Mikey grins, liking that he made that sound. 

He’s tired of making people quiet around him. Hates the looks that they give him, like they’re sorry for him. Ray hardly comes by anymore and he thinks it’s because Mikey is making him uncomfortable. Frank went back to New Jersey, which makes sense because there’s nothing keeping him here anymore. He sold his condo and Mikey sometimes thinks about selling his house too. He misses New Jersey. Misses being able to go to see his mom whenever he wanted. 

“You can still do that,” Patrick had told him, “Hop on a plane and go see her.”

And it’s not about the money, he has more than enough to fly all over the world if he wanted. But he just, he’s not sure, there’s something that seems so humiliating about going home after his band broke up. Like he’s retreating or something sad. 

Patrick had stroked his hair and Mikey jumped because Patrick wasn’t a touchy feely kind of guy. “You’re not retreating,” he said, and Mikey tried to believe him because he knew that Patrick could understand, that he wasn’t just saying something to make Mikey feel better. 

Because after Fall Out Boy decided to take a break Patrick went straight back to Chicago and he told Mikey that there was a period of time where he camped out on his mom’s couch and ate every casserole she baked for him. “It was like a resting spot,” Patrick told him, “I got off the couch eventually and made a record. And then I got back to Pete. Sometimes you just need to rest.”

And that’s what Mikey thinks he’s doing with Pete and Patrick. He’s just resting. He’s going over to their house and eating take out while they make music. He’s sitting on the floor in the makeshift studio that Pete has in his house and staring wide eyed at Patrick as he belts out notes that he must have been holding onto for Pete. Because Mikey’s heard  _ Soul Punk _ and he thinks Patick is great on it, but the way he’s looking at Pete and then closing his eyes to pull out these notes makes Mikey think he was storing things away for Pete. And from the way that Pete is looking at him, looking at Patrick singing his words like he’s just fucking speaking through him is really incredible. 

Mikey’s seen people in love before. He watches the way Lyn-z revolves around his brother like they’re planets in perfect balance, like they were made for each other. But it’s not the same with Pete and Patrick. It doesn’t make sense at all until Mikey really starts paying attention. Because if they’re planets, then they’re totally off their rotations, gravity means nothing for them, they just crash and collide, taking bits of each other and becoming part of each other. And it’s beautiful. So beautiful to be able to watch that. 

And he’s just resting, he tells himself, that’s all. 

But sometimes they make him feel like they’re making space for him. That they’re not just letting him crash in the guest room when sleeping in his empty house gets to be too much. It’s Pete coming to his house and telling him that Patrick wants him. That they don’t want him seeing other guys.  _ Guys that hurt him _ . It’s not the same, he keeps reminding himself, they don’t mean it the way he keeps fantasizing about. 

But sometimes it’s hard when he’s between the two of them. On those nights when they’re sprawled on the couch and somehow Mikey ends up in the middle with Pete’s hand on Mikey’s thigh and Patrick’s head resting on his shoulder. And it’s hard to breathe on those nights, it’s hard to not think about Pete’s hand sliding a little to the left and for Patrick to turn and press his lips to Mikey’s throat. 

“You coming over later?” Pete asks. 

Mikey tucks the last of his folded jeans into the dresser and grins. “You know, you two can come over here if you want.”

There’s a pause, because there’s not a guest room at Mikey’s right now. It’s loaded up with boxes from that one night when Mikey went on a rage through the house and packed up everything that reminded him of Alicia. But that doesn’t really mean anything, they could sleep out in the living room in a blanket fort like they’ve done, or Pete and Patrick could go home after dinner. 

“I mean--” Mikey starts. 

“Yeah,” Patrick says, “We’ll be over in a bit.” 

And when Mikey gets off the phone he has a brief panic moment because he doesn’t know why this feels like a big deal, but it  _ does _ . And he just can’t help it, it’s programmed into his mind to call Gerard when he feels on edge, but he’s halfway through listening to the dial tones when he hangs up just as Gerard answers, “Mikey?”

He frowns and stares at his phone as it lights up with Gerard’s name. He knows he should answer it otherwise Gerard is going to bust into his house and he really doesn’t need that to happen when Patrick and Pete get here. He doesn’t really trust Pete, or Patrick for that matter, to not say something to Gerard about how fucked all this has been for him. 

So he answers and sighs, “I’m fine.”

“You called,” Gerard says softly. 

Mikey frowns and starts to pace around his living room because he just can’t sit still and have this conversation. “Yeah, butt dial.”

“Mikes…”

“I think Pete and Patrick want me to sleep with them,” Mikey says.

“Oh,” Gerard says, then Mikey can hear him light a cigarette, and it makes Mikey wish he hadn’t quit, “Um…”

“Yeah.”

Gerard huffs a laugh. “Only you would get into this kind of a situation.”

“Not true,” Mikey says, walking into the kitchen to poke through the fridge and frowning that all he has to drink is the pulpy orange juice, “I know Frank has had a threesome.”

“I think there’s a difference between a threesome and whatever Pete is planning.”

“Please don’t say it like that,” Mikey whines.

Gerard laughs then says, “Well, it is Pete.”

Mikey huffs and takes out the orange juice and wonders if maybe he has a strainer that could get the pulp out. 

Gerard is quiet on the phone and Mikey doesn’t really want to push him to talk because then he’ll ask him things that Mikey isn’t ready to answer. 

“Are you happy with them?” Gerard asks in a way that makes Mikey think Gerard is asking if he’s been replaced.    


So he says, “I miss you.”

He listens to Gerard’s shaky exhale and gives up on finding a strainer and just hops up on his kitchen counter, swinging his legs into the bottom cabinets. “I just needed some space because you really hurt me.”

“I wasn’t trying to--”

“I know,” Mikey whispers, “And there’s things I have to say to you but I can’t really say them yet, ok? I need more time I think.”

“That’s ok,” Gerard rushes, “Take your time, just don’t shut me out again? And, can I come over when you’re actually home because I think your neighbors are starting to look at me funny?”

Mikey laughs and that’s when his front door opens and Pete gives him a look, Patrick coming in behind him and shutting the door before locking it. He watches Patrick unload a bag of takeout and then he cocks his head to the side, which reminds Mikey that he’s still on the phone so he mouths, “Gerard” and they beam at him, which makes him blush and smile shyly. 

“Mikey?” Gerard asks, “Did the scary old lady next door come take you hostage? You remember the code word for those situations right? Banana salt water taffy, is this a banana salt water taffy situation?’

And Mikey just laughs harder, doubling over to clench his stomach. He hasn’t laughed this hard in so long, and he hears Pete chuckle behind him because Pete has always been so empathic that he can’t help but laugh when someone else is laughing. 

“Why did we come up with that? We hate salt water taffy,” Mikey giggles. 

“I think that’s why it’s the code word,” Gerard says fondly, and he sounds a little breathless like he’s trying to hold in laughter too. 

Mikey lets out another fit of giggles then says, “Listen, Pete and Patrick got here, let me call you later.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’ll call you tomorrow,” Mikey replies softly before hanging up. 

Patrick comes into the kitchen to pull out plates from Mikey’s cabinets, it takes him a couple of tries to find the right one, but then he sets out three plates on the counter before standing in front of Mikey. Mikey reactively opens his legs so that Patrick can come closer and he likes that his cheeks go a little pink and he looks a bit unsure of himself, but he steps into the space and sets his hands on Mikey’s hips. 

And Mikey's head is spinning because Pete is standing right behind them, scoping rice and veggies onto the plates like his boyfriend isn’t between Mikey’s legs. Patrick is looking at his hands stroking Mikey’s narrow hips as he says, “You should laugh like that more.”

“Trying,” Mikey murmurs, looking at Patrick’s hands too. 

Mikey looks up when he hears Pete move, watches him step behind Patrick and hook his chin over his shoulder. Pete’s hands cover Patrick’s on his hips and Mikey snaps his eyes back up to Pete’s. Pete is smiling softly, that kind of amused smile that he wears when he’s trying to string words into lyrics. He’s smiling at Patrick’s hands on Mikey like they’re his favorite kind of puzzle. 

Pete interlaces his fingers with Patrick’s and they trace up Mikey’s sides, making him shiver and his eyes flutter like he needs to close them but he doesn’t want to miss the way Pete and Patrick look together when they’re touching him. The way Pete looks like that summer never ended and Patrick, Patrick looks like he’s pushing back into Pete and leaning in towards Mikey at the same time. Like his atoms are splitting and finding their way to both of the men on either side of him. 

Pete kisses Patrick’s jaw and Mikey watches how Patrick’s eyes close and he tilts his head back against Pete’s shoulder. Pete grins against his skin, and looks up at Mikey, his warm whiskey eyes making Mikey drunk, that’s the only way he can explain it, the only justification he has for leaning in and capturing Patrick’s full lips with his own. He swallows Patrick’s gasp and thinks maybe this is a bad idea, maybe Pete is about to blow up on Mikey, maybe Patrick is about to hit him. But Patrick pulls his hands away from Pete’s and frames Mikey’s face, kissing him back a little hesitantly, soft little kisses before pulling back. 

Mikey gets lost in his oceanic eyes and only looks away when Pete chuckles, “Yeah, my turn.”

And then he’s being kissed by Pete and Mikey thought kissing him would be the same as it was seven years ago. He thought he would feel twenty-five again, drunk off rum punch and Pete’s hands. He thought that he would feel rubbed raw from standing in the sun for too long and from Pete kissing every inch of his skin. But it’s so different. It’s like Pete isn’t even that same person, he’s better. He’s full of love this time, instead of bitter twenty-something rage. He’s standing firm on his own two feet with a sure hand, with initiation and clarity instead of second guessing himself and only kissing Mikey because he was drunk. This is how they should have been. This is the kind of love that isn’t ugly. 

“There’s a bed upstairs,” Mikey whispers. 

Pete’s lips twist into a smile against Mikey’s and he giggles a little, pulling away. “Is there?”

Mikey reaches for Patrick, lets his hands find the hem of his shirt and tug a little. “Yeah,” he replies breathlessly. 

Pete leans back in and Mikey opens his mouth to kiss him, but Pete kisses his forehead instead. “Let’s eat dinner,” he says gently, and Mikey wonders where all this maturity came from. If it has something to do with him being a dad now or if Patrick has something to do with it. Either way, he’s starting to breathe normally again and their actions are solidifying in his mind, so he’s glad Pete’s slowing them down. 

Pete brings his hand up to stroke the back of Mikey’s head before he pulls away to find forks. Patrick is still blushing furiously and is standing there like he’s not sure what to do, so Mikey hops down from the kitchen counter and hands him a plate. “Help me pick out a movie.”

*

Gerard comes to his house bundled up like he’s prepared to go out into New Jersey winter and Mikey laughs at him a little. 

“It’s only December!” He insists. 

“You know it’s still like sixty degrees out though, right?”

Gerard huffs and unwinds his six scarfs and Mikey smiles fondly at him, because he sort of looks like he did when they were in their twenties for a moment, all wrapped in fabric like it was a barrier to keep everyone away. 

Gerard goes into the kitchen and starts to try to make coffee but stops when he looks through Mikey’s pantry and doesn’t find coffee. “Mikes...where is your coffee?”

“I’m out I think,” Mikey shrugs. 

Gerard turns with wide eyes. “How long have you been out?”

Mikey shrugs again. He hasn’t spent a lot of time in his house lately. He’s always at Pete’s now and when he does go home, he just swings by Starbucks on his way. He hasn’t been to the grocery store in a while actually. 

Gerard narrows his eyes. “Are you even home anymore?”

Mikey blushes. 

Ever since Mikey kissed Pete and Patrick, he’s been at their house almost constantly. At first he was worried that he was suffocating them, that maybe they hadn’t really meant for him to be part of whatever it was they were. Mikey was used to being just a phase for people, but when he went to go home the night after they kissed, Patrick pulled him back down on the couch and wrapped his arms and legs around him. 

Pete had laughed and said. “I don’t think you’re getting out of that one. When Patrick wants to cuddle, he wants to  _ cuddle _ .”

And Mikey couldn’t find it in him to argue. He loved sinking against Patrick. He was soft in all the places that Mikey was bony, and he was so gentle with Mikey he almost thought he was going to cry. 

That night when Patrick got up to go to bed, he took Mikey’s hand and Pete followed them up to their bedroom. Mikey stood by the doorway feeling unsure and like he was going to be sick from nerves, until Pete handed him some pajama pants and smiled reassuringly. 

There hadn’t been any pressure. And maybe there should have been more conversation about what was happening, but it felt so easy. Mikey couldn’t remember the last time that something felt as easy as breathing. Because they didn’t expect anything from him. There were days when they would all go out to take a walk together when Mikey felt up to it, but then there were days when Mikey felt heavy and foggy where Patrick coaxed Mikey’s head into his lap and petted Mikey’s hair while they watched game shows. Some days he was with both of them, sometimes he went to an arcade with Pete or a record store with Patrick. 

And sometimes, if Mikey was really in a good mood, he would sit in the studio with them and come up with basslines. It was never anything that he was serious about, or at least that’s what he told them. He just wanted to mess around and Patrick would come up with things on garage band to show him and Pete would sit behind him and wrap his fingers around the bass with Mikey, kissing his cheek. Mikey never thought he’d want to make music again, but it was  _ easy _ with them. 

They were all on the same page about taking things slow. Mikey had only been divorced for about a year and Pete was going on two years, they were all still wounded and Patrick was trying his best to understand. Sometimes Mikey would watch the way Pete would close himself off from Patrick, and him, but he saw it mostly with Patrick since Mikey was trying to keep his hands to himself until he wrapped his mind around everything. And Patrick never flinched or got annoyed, he just eased away and waited until Pete got his head straight and leaned back into him.

Mikey didn’t think he’d love anyone again after Alicia, didn’t really think that his heart would trust anyone else. But they’re so fucking gentle with him that he’s not questioning it like he probably should. If anything, he’s more nervous about ruining whatever they have and Pete finally pulled him into his lap one afternoon when Patrick was in a meeting with some label people over the last stuff for  _ Soul Punk _ . 

“Hey you know that I…” Pete trailed off, huffing a laugh, then started again, “Patrick and I want this with you.”

“What’s ‘this’?” Mikey asked, playing with the hem of Pete’s shirt. 

Pete rubbed his palms against Mikey’s thighs. “Dating, I guess,” he says, then laughs again like he does when he gets nervous, “We want you around all the time. We want to take care of you and let you take care of us. I want you to kiss me when you want and to make Patrick blush the way you like.”

“Oh,” Mikey said, sounding like all the air left him. 

Pete wrapped his hands around Mikey’s hips. “And I want us to do more than kiss.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Pete agreed, squeezing his hips and rocking up against him just once, but it was enough to make Mikey’s eyes roll in the back of his head and let out a startled moan. “Yeah, I really want to do more than kiss you Mikey Way. And I want to watch Patrick do more than kiss you.”

Mikey just nodded and groud down against him, feeling his blood boil under this  _ want _ that he’s never had on the floor of bathrooms or under the hands of strangers. Pete lets him get away with it for a little bit, rocking back against him and kissing him roughly, before gripping his hips to still him and pulling back. “But we need to talk about some things before all that.”

“You couldn’t have started with that before you got me all hot and bothered?” Mikey huffed, trying to break free of Pete’s grip so he could find that delicious friction he and Pete had been creating. 

Pete chuckled. “I wanted to make sure I had your attention.”

“It’s yours,” Mikey breathed, leaning in to kiss him, but Pete just gave him sweet closed mouth kisses, “Ok, ok, what do we need to talk about?”

Pete kissed the tip of his nose and said, “I want you to go to therapy again. And I want you to find something to do now that you’re not with the band.”

“Are those your terms before you’ll sleep with me?” Mikey frowned, trying to pull away. 

Pete tightened his hold. “No, not like that, Mikey, stop, it’s not like that,” he insisted and he kissed Mikey again, just long enough to settle him down, “We both know what it’s like getting into a relationship when we’re all torn up inside. I don’t want that for us.”

It sounded a lot less dickish when he said it that way, but Mike still pouted a little and Pete grinned, resting his forehead against his. “I tried to cure the hurt in my head with love and it just fucked me up more, I’m not going to do that to you.”

“But you’re ok now?” Mikey asked. 

Pete’s grin grew. “Because I went to therapy and stopped sulking around the house.”

“I don’t sulk.”

“Babe,” Pete snorted, “You do, but it’s ok. For now. You need to find something you like again.”

And that’s what Mikey’s been trying to do. He thought having Gerard over would help him, thought maybe he could pick his brain about what Mikey should be doing next. “I don’t want to stop playing music.”

Gerard dumps his pile of scarves on the couch. “Ok,” he says, “You don’t have to.”

Mikey sits next to the scarves and sighs. “I don’t know how to write music without you,” he whispers sadly. 

Gerard’s face crumbles and he plops down on the other side of the scarves. “This conversation needs coffee.”

Mikey grins. “I have orange juice.”   


“You’re not pawning your pulp juice onto me. Let’s go to Starbucks. Tell me what a bad brother I am on the way.”

“Will you buy?”

“You’re really lucky that I love you.”

“Unconditionally,” Mikey smiles. 

Gerard starts winding his scarfs back around his neck. “Of course.”

It’s not like Gerard is a bad brother. Not at all. If anything, it was Mikey who was the awful brother. Gerard needed this band to end, it was killing him--it had been for awhile. And really, if Mikey was being a hundred percent honest with himself, it had been killing Mikey too. There were too many dark moments during the band’s history that Mikey should have taken as a warning sign. Like the Paramour. 

He doesn’t like to talk about it, or even think about it really. But there had been very few times where Gerard couldn’t save him, and that had been one of those times. And that had really fucked him up, it felt like he was back in Japan watching Gerard throw up his insides into a trashcan backstage. He just felt helpless and the one person who was supposed to keep him safe was someone he couldn’t grasp onto. In Japan he was trying to leave Mikey and in the Paramour he was someone else entirely. He was the Patient character from the album, not his brother and it fucked with Mikey so much that he couldn’t crawl into his brother’s mind and hide because that was what was fucking him up. All the darkness. The black shadows swallowing him whole, making him scream out in the middle of the night and sleep on the floor of his brother’s room. He had been falling apart and he finally left that place. 

Only to come back and practice with the band. He would throw up whatever Stacy had forced him to have for breakfast then walked into the place that made him want to kill himself day after day. For a band that he had started to lose faith in. 

“You weren’t happy either,” Gerard says softly, as he pulls out into traffic. 

But it was  _ theirs _ . It was something that he made with his brother back when they had nothing to believe in. Back when Gerard was spending his talent and time tracing other people’s artwork and Mikey was wasting his money at community college. 

My Chemical Romance was the dysfunctional lover that Mikey could never leave. 

And so of course, his brother made the choice for him because, “I couldn’t watch it destroy you either,” Gerard continues, “It wasn’t just me relapsing and starving myself. It was you popping pills again. It was Ray getting frustrated over our sound and feeling boxed in. It was Frank missing his babies grow up and hating me for taking something from him that was never his in the first place!”

“Gee…” Mikey whispers, he hates it when they talk about him and Frank. 

“No,” Gerard says, scrunching up to light a cigarette without taking both hands off the wheel, “Look, we  _ all _ were falling apart. I’m just the only one who would admit it, and I’m sorry if that makes me the bad guy. Sure, my issues were louder than everyone else's but that’s just because everyone is looking at me! No one was looking out for you and I had to.”

“Gee.”

“And I know it fucking hurts now, Mikey, I  _ know-- _ it’s not exactly a walk in the park for me either,” Gerard bites out, “And I’m not...we’ve tried to just take a break from each other. We haven’t made music together since that stupid album that you all shot down.”

“You wanted it to be about a support group for parents who lost their kids, Gerard. You have Bandit...that’s not, why would--”

“I know! I wasn’t in my right mind, and that’s what I need you to see,” Gerard insists, taking both hands off the wheel and moving them around like he does when he gets worked up. “I’m not taking the band away from you, it was  _ killing _ us. How much longer would you have let it go on? Until I passed out on stage? Until you overdosed?”

“Stop.”

“No, you  _ stop _ ! You’ve been moping around these last few months like I fucking took this away to watch you turn on your sobriety and get punched in the face. You haven’t called Frank since we had that conference call about the break and Ray doesn’t want to come over. You’re acting like we were just the band and not family.”

“You didn’t tell me before!” Mikey shouts, “You treated me like I was a fucking employee. Like I was...I’m your  _ brother _ and the first time I hear about you wanting to break up the band is on a  _ conference call _ ? I was fucking making soup on the stove like it was just a typical Tuesday afternoon and you--”

“What? Like you wouldn’t have tried to talk me out of it? I kept going for you in the first place! I wanted to be done after Black Parade but you--”

“Don’t make this about  _ me _ it has never been about me--”

“--the fuck are you talking about? It’s always you--”

“--your shadow! No one fucking--”

“--didn’t ask for--”

“--are you kidding me! You? You’re the most dramatic--”

“--because you don’t--”

“Gerard, brakes!” Mikey shouts and Gerard looks back at the road before slamming on the brakes, sending Mikey flying forward only to be sent back into the seat by his seat belt. 

Gerard looks up at the red light and lets out a shaky breath. “Are you alright?”   


“Take me home,” Mikey mutters, his eyes burning hot from the argument and the adrenaline of the almost car accident. 

“Mikes--”

Mikey undoes his seat belt and gets out of the car, ignoring his brother calling out to him. 

*

Mikey turns off his phone and lights before taking the bottle of whisky off the counter and climbing the stairs to his bedroom. 

Patrick finds him hours later sitting in the empty bathtub with the bottle sitting on the floor. Mikey waits for the lecture, for the disappointment and the pity. Patrick climbs into the tub with him and picks up the whiskey. “You couldn’t have been drinking scotch?”

Mikey snorts and sinks further down into the tub. 

Patrick takes a drink from the bottle and wrinkles his nose at the taste. Mikey watches him, watches the way his lips wrap around the neck of the bottle, follows down the lines of his throat and smiles softly at the soft blush that’s dancing across his cheeks when he realizes he’s being watched. 

“Pete send you?”

“Your brother called,” he answers, ignoring Mikey when he reaches to take the whiskey back. 

“It just sucks,” Mikey mumbles, dropping his hand when he realizes that Patrick isn’t going to let him drink anymore. 

“What does?”

“Finding out that Gerard isn’t my savior,” he whispers, shifting to put his feet in Patrick’s lap. 

Patrick hums and rubs at his toes absentmindedly. 

“I’ve always done what he did,” Mikey whispers, and he knows he’s not really making sense, but he thinks Patrick can sort through it all, “And I just don’t know who I am without him, I guess. I was Gerard’s kid brother.”

“You still are.”

“But it doesn’t mean anything now,” Mikey insists. 

Patrick frowns. “Mikey, he’s still--”

“I know! And I know the guys are still my family, whatever,” he mumbles, then covers his face and when he says, “but I feel so  _ alone _ ,” it comes out like a sob. 

He feels Patrick shift and then he feels weight on his hips, pinning him down and Mikey does sob at that. At feeling grounded to this moment instead of feeling like he could float away, he’s so scared he’s just drifting. That things are happening just not to him, with him. He’s not in control of anything right now. 

Patrick takes Mikey’s hands from his face and squeezes them tightly before kissing him. Mikey instantly kisses back, lets his lips slide across Patrick’s before opening up to him. There’s a moment when he wonders if he’s allowed this. If they should have talked more about whatever is going on between the three of them, because the last thing he needs to do is ruin this. Because as shaky as it is, it’s what’s keeping Mikey sane right now. And that’s probably why Pete wanted him to work on himself first, because if this shatters, Mikey’s sure it’s going to take him in the blow. But he’s past the point of caring right now. Because if My Chem ending taught him anything, it was that he needed to hang onto the good moments while he had them. 

“I’m going to drive you to an AA meeting tomorrow,” Patrick whispers, pulling back and brushing Mikey’s tears off his cheeks with his fingertips. 

Mikey sniffles and nods. 

“And Pete is going to find you a therapist. He’s been through a lot, he knows all the best ones,” he says with a smile. 

Mikey nods, trying not to start crying again. 

“And then you’re going to call your mom and tell her you’re coming home for Christmas.”

Mikey nods and Patrick kisses him again. “Words, baby.”

“Ok,” Mikey says, then, “Thank you.”

*

Mikey got sober once before and it sucked. It still sucks this time, but it’s a bit more manageable since he knows what he’s getting into. True to Patrick’s words, he takes him to an AA meeting in the morning and sits in the parking lot while Mikey goes into the church. 

He sorta hates that it’s always in a church, not that he’s anti-religious or something. It’s just that he already feels like shit, he really doesn’t want to be surrounded by a bunch of angel statues looking down on him as well. And the donuts are always stale here, the coffee too weak and the faces that surround him are melancholic at best. He doesn’t know why these meetings help, but they do. So Patrick keeps driving him to them. 

Pete finds him a therapist that doesn’t suck and he likes him alright enough. He’s pretty chill and doesn’t make Mikey tell him about his childhood during their first meeting. He just asks what he’s been up to and makes everything feel like they’re talking about the weather instead of ripping out Mikey’s insides. 

He’s always tired after therapy though, and he likes that Pete and Patrick don’t hover, they know not to call him on those days or show up to his house because he feels a little too rubbed raw. 

And Gerard stops coming by or calling. 

Mikey’s not sure if he’s happy about that or not. He’s pretty sure either Pete or Patrick told him that Mikey needed space for a bit, and he appreciates that because his thoughts about his brother and the band are so muddled that he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to even be angry at anymore. He just knows that he’s angry and it’s so confusing. It’s that anger that he had thought he grew out of in his twenties, but it seems like it’s just come back for a vengeance. 

“It took me a while to forgive the band,” Pete admits one night, well, almost morning. They’re laying in the studio and both of them have their basses hung around their necks. Sometimes one of them will strum something, but they’re at that point of exhaustion where they’re just liquid limbs and unfiltered words. 

“What made you talk to Patrick again?”

Pete shrugs. “We were never not talking really. I mean, it wasn’t the same as before, but we sent emails. I listened to his stuff and he listened to mine.”

Mikey swings his leg over and kicks at him. “No, tell me what happened.”

Pete huffs, “I don’t know, man. I guess I finally stopped being selfish and realized he was hurting too. There’s more than one person in a band.”

Mikey pauses for a bit and lets the sting from the words settle before he says, “Ow.”

Pete turns his head and looks at him. “You’re brother is hurting too. I know it sucks, babe, trust me I do, but bands break when they need to.”

“Easy for you to say since you’re getting yours back.”

“And who says you won’t get yours back?” Pete challenges, “How do you know that once you all get some space from each other that you won’t want to get back on stage again? Bands aren’t business deals no matter what the fucking contracts say, they’re family and you don’t just forget that.”

And that hurts too because Mikey had been sorta forgetting that. Pete was echoing Gerard’s words from the car and he knows that it’s starting to hurt more now that he’s finding truth in it. 

“Patrick says that you’re going home for Christmas?” 

Mikey just nods because he’s still not sure how he feels about that. It’s been a long time since he’s been to Jersey and he’s not sure how that’s going to settle in his bones. 

“You look up AA meetings there?”

“Yeah.” He says, even though he doesn’t plan on staying out there that long. 

Pete smiles at him like he’s proud. “Good,” he whispers, then, “Want to come out to Chicago for New Years then? Patrick has his condo still.”

Mikey kicks him again and smiles. 

*

Gerard doesn’t come home for Christmas, he and Lyn-Z take Bandit to Lyn-Z’s parents’ instead and Mikey feels a little guilty about that because he’s pretty sure it was his parents’ turn to see them for the holidays this year. But his mom greets him at the airport with a hug that makes him bite his lip hard to keep from crying, because there’s just something so healing about being hugged by his mom after all this time. So much time that he had forgotten what her perfume smells like, the scent that had followed him around his whole childhood, and he doesn’t understand how his brain could have forgotten that. What information had taken its place? Wonders what will over take the My Chem memories he doesn’t want anymore. 

His parents don’t have a huge Christmas celebration, which Mikey is happy about. He really didn’t want to see the whole family while he was like this. He purposely flew in on Christmas Eve so that he could fly into Chicago tomorrow night, not wanting to be in Jersey long enough for him to feel sick about it. 

And his mom understands, years of them only being able to spare a few hours in December has taught her to say her neighborhood gossip fast. Mikey sits at the kitchen table with her long into the night while she smokes and keeps getting up to refill Mikey’s cup of coffee. She doesn’t ask him about the band or his brother, but she grins like she’s in on a secret, and he’s sure that Gerard told her about Pete and Patrick. 

“I’m glad you’re making other friends.”

And Mikey all but chokes on his coffee. “Yeah, friends.”

Christmas morning is a rush of his mom putting horribly wrapped packages into his hands while his dad burns the cinnamon rolls. He goes out into the cold Jersey air and takes a walk down to the gas station to grab a soda and send a generic “Merry Christmas” in the group chat with the guys, he knows it’s not the same this year, but at least he’s trying. 

When he comes back, Frank is sitting on his parent’s door steps smoking. He quirks up an eyebrow. “Gerard said you were going to be in town, I didn’t think you’d reach out so don’t worry, I’m not mad.”

Mikey hovers in front of him and opens his soda. “You and Gee still talk?”

Frank gives him an incredulous look and nods. “Yeah, Mikes, it’s...I know it’s complicated, but me loving you guys isn’t.”

Mikey sighs and sits next to him on the steps, taking the cigarette from Frank and taking a drag before passing it back. And it feels so much like being twenty and pressed in a van, smoking instead of talking because it was easier. But Frank was never one to gush about his feelings, and he had hung around Gerard long enough to be able to listen to Mikey without needing him to speak. 

Frank swings his arm around Mikey’s shoulders and they keep passing the cigarette back and forth until they reach the end, but then Frank just lights another. 

His mom comes out and invites Frank to stay for dinner, but he says he should get back home and Mikey has to eat quickly anyway so that he can catch his flight. Frank wiggles his eyebrows at him like he’s in on the secret and Mikey wonders who all Gerard told about Mikey’s thing with Pete and Patrick. 

The flight over to Chicago takes way too long and there’s a delay because of the weather but when he finally arrives, Patrick pulls him into his arms and then wrinkles his nose and pulls away. “Have you been smoking?”

Pete laughs and bats Patrick’s hands away before slipping his arm around Mikey’s waist. 

“Sorry you had to cut your Christmas short to wait for me in the airport,” Mikey says, pulling his suitcase out of the pile at baggage claim. 

Pete rolls his eyes and kisses his cheek before leading him out to the parking garage. Patrick gets in the driver’s seat and Mikey’s sorta intrigued now. He’s never been to Chicago with Pete before to see what he’s hometown was like, and he knows that Patrick is in love with the city. It’ll be interesting to see Patrick in his natural element. 

Patrick’s condo is a smaller replica of Pete’s house and Mikey wonders how much say Patrick had in Pete’s design, or if Pete unconsciously picked color tones that he knew Patrick would like. They’re always doing stuff like that, Mikey’s noticed, and he thinks about planets crashing again and he sees how molded together they are. How Patrick will breathe a certain way and it’ll stir an expression on Pete’s face like they’re having a conversation. 

Patrick leads him into the bedroom and Pete trails behind, turning out lights and locking doors before joining them in the bedroom and kissing Mikey. 

Oh. 

Mikey stops thinking about Pete in 2005, stops thinking about what they should have been if they had been a little more stable and a lot more talkative. He stops thinking about the way Patrick hesitates around him like he’s waiting for permission. Stops thinking if he can have this, doesn’t think about why they want him in the first place--just that they do. 

Patrick comes behind him and pulls up his shirt, Pete stepping back so that he can take it off and then Pete’s mouth is attached to Mikey’s again, licking into his mouth like he’s trying to remember how he tastes.

And then Patrick is pulling Pete away from Mikey and kissing him, and Mikey didn’t know, didn’t even imagine, how beautiful they would be together. How they move together like they’ve been practicing this dance for years. He watches the way Pete undresses Patrick and keeps kissing him so he doesn’t have the chance to feel insecure, holding onto his hands and kissing his fingertips so Patrick doesn’t cover himself up with that shy blush working it’s way from his cheeks to his chest. 

Mikey is tempted to just watch them, but Patrick reaches out for him and he’s drowning in the extra hands on him and the slide of clothing. He’s falling, crashing into waves of bed sheets, but Pete is there to catch him, to ground him into something familiar. And then Patrick is kissing him and reminding him that it’s ok to move forward, that there’s something sweet in the future, something that if he gets past whatever is in his head that’s holding him down in the past, he can have. 

He expected it to be too much for him to handle, that being with both of them would be like being devoured whole, but they’re so gentle with him, so patient and Mikey doesn’t know what he did to deserve them. He doesn’t understand why Pete is looking at him like he won the lottery, how he is smiling at Patrick kissing Mikey like he thinks they’re the most beautiful people he’s ever seen. He can’t comprehend why Patrick can’t keep his hands off him, doesn’t stop caressing and tasting Mikey’s skin like he’s something forbidden. 

And Mikey’s been terrified of making music, art, anything. Thinking that he would ruin anything he touched, turn it poisonous and putrid, but he gets lost in their tangled limbs. In the feeling of not knowing whose hand is on him, whose lips are pressing into his neck, which leg he’s gripping. He understood what it was to fuck and get off with someone else, but this was something different. This was what he had only imagined what making love was like, making, creating, climbing the collective crescendo together instead of working towards it on his own. And when he cries out and feels his body shake, break, shatter into something he isn’t sure he’ll ever want to put back together, he hears “so beautiful” and Mikey huffs a laugh as his heart rate slows, as he blinks out the tears and sees Pete shudder and arch against Patrick before Patrick collapses against the bed with shivers from the aftershocks of pleasure. 

“Beautiful,” he echos softly. 

*

“You’re such a basic bitch,” Patrick grumbles as he shoves Pete’s Peppermint Mocha into his hands and pushes past Mikey so they can get out of the Starbucks line as quickly as possible. 

Mikey still isn’t quite used to being able to go into public places, but they’re in a random part of the Chicago suburbs and Pete and Patrick haven’t been in headlines for a long time. He doesn’t really believe that no one cares about them anymore, just that there’s some nice in the world and that they’re giving them the break they need from the spotlight. 

He’s been sitting off to the side as they get on video conferences with Joe and Andy about the reunion and how they want to do the announcement. Pete keeps stringing the press on, Mikey has never been able to understand how the fans always seem to know something is going to happen before it really does, but Pete is having fun with it. 

“He’s always grumpy after Christmas,” Pete explains, handing Mikey his tea then putting his arm around his shoulders so they can follow Patrick out into the parking lot. He’s already in the car, scrolling through his phone to put on some music. Mikey slides into the passenger seat and gives Patrick a look.    
  
“What?”

“Are you feeling better now that you have your caffeine?” Mikey teases. 

Patrick rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling a little. 

It’s the first time they’ve left Patrick’s condo since Mikey flew in. It had been days of exploring each other’s bodies, with Pete being smug about having slept with both of them before and using it to his advantage. 

“He likes it when you kiss him here,” Pete would say, brushing his lips against Mikey’s adam’s apple, or he’d nibble against Patrick’s jaw. 

But sometimes Pete just liked to lay next to them and watch Patrick and Mikey pull each other apart, watched as Patick took his time opening Mikey up and only letting Pete rock into him after Mikey was begging incoherently. And sometimes Pete would cradle Patrick in between his legs and mouth at his neck as he watched Mikey take Patrick in his mouth. Mikey and Patrick loved to gain up on Pete though, loved to watch his smug smirk fall off his face as they used their combined knowledge of his body to bring him to pieces, only to build him back up and shatter him again. 

It had been the best Christmas break Mikey’s had in a long time. 

They want to stay in Chicago for a while, wanting to take a break from LA before things get crazy with all the press and the business stuff of announcing their comeback, and then piecing together the last few things needed for their tour. They’re releasing a song and video too and it’s sort of hard for Mikey not to feel down in all the excitement. 

And it makes him feel even worse that they’re trying not to be too excited around him. 

“It’s ok,” Mikey promised them, “I want you two to be happy. You deserve this.”

Pete pulled him into his arms and hugged him in one of those perfect Pete Wentz hugs where he felt it down to his toes. “I love you,” he whispered, kissing the soft spot under his ear. And he said it with an air of finality where Mikey didn’t feel pressured to say it back, because that would sort of cheapen the mood anyway. This was just Pete giving himself to Mikey, something for him to hang onto so he wouldn’t think they would leave him for the band.    


He hadn’t really thought of it like that, until Pete had said something. But that’s what it feels like when they disappear into Patrick’s office to talk to Bob about something relating to the new album. They try to soothe the burn that Mikey doesn’t have a project he’s working on by being extra clingy when they aren’t working, but it’s starting to get to him. 

And Mikey tried to write down ideas. He started thinking about lyrics, but none of them felt authentic because he kept hearing Gerard sing the words and he knew he needed to stop writing what he thought his brother should say since they would never be uttered by him. He started drawing like he used to when he was a kid, but the sketches just reminded him that he wasn’t as good as Gerard and he ripped up his sketchbook with Pete trying to snatch it away from him. “Stop!” Pete had yelled, managing to save a few sketches. 

The next day they were hung up on Patrick’s fridge like he was a fucking kid or something, but Pete wouldn’t let him take them down. And Mikey wasn’t sure what he was trying to prove, but he didn’t like it. 

Patrick has him FaceTime with his therapist and they have a screaming match in Patrick’s office about what Mikey wants to do and he keeps trying to tell everyone that he doesn’t know what he wants to do, that’s the problem. And his therapist keeps saying that Mikey isn’t answering the question, he keeps trying to find things he thinks he should be doing instead of what he wants to be doing, which ends with Mikey hanging up on him and throwing his phone against the wall. 

Pete went with him to the phone store so he could get a new one. 

And then he calls his friend David on it. 

And they start talking music. 

*

Fall Out Boy announces their reunion a month before My Chemical Romance announces their breakup. 

February is filled with laughter and silly bubbling grape juice kisses and late night pancake dinners while Pete glows at having his band back together. Joe and Andy welcome Mikey into their little family without any question, just like they did during Summer of Like. They play video games together and throw bananas at Patrick during MarioKart just to watch him turn red and cuss out Pete for ever teaching them to all gain up on him. 

February is filled with Mikey getting excited about music again, with him plugging into Patrick’s laptop to show him what he and David had been working on. And Mikey knows it’s not Patrick’s type of music, but he beams like he’s proud of Mikey anyway. He pulls Mikey to him and smothers any doubt that he’s doing the wrong thing with kisses and soft encouragement. 

“It’s called Electric Century,” Mikey tells them over the small clips of different demos they’ve put together, too scared to put out anything until Mikey thinks it’s perfect. 

“You’ve always been great with names,” Pete tells him, dropping a kiss on his shoulder. 

He’s so happy that he even sends a demo to his brother, and actually answers the phone when he calls. “I love it,” Gerard whispers, like he’s afraid he’ll scare Mikey off if he talks in a normal volume. 

“I’m sorry,” Mikey says, “I know it wasn’t your fault, I know you were hurting.”

“Mikey,” Gerard breathes.

“Let me say this,” Mikey says, “I’ve been...I’ve been getting help. I’m in therapy and I’ve been going to AA.”

“That’s great,” he says a little louder, but still as breathless. 

“And I’m with Pete and Patrick.”

“I know,” Gerard says, a little smug as if he knew this was going to happen for a while and Mikey just had to get with the program. 

“They make me better,” he whispers, as if he’s scared now. Like saying the words out loud will jinx them and he’ll lose everything he’s just gotten. 

“No,” Gerard disagrees, “They’re just good at showing you how great you already are.”

And then on March 22, My Chemical Romance announces that they’ve broken up. 

He thought that maybe Gerard would have given him some warning that they were going to release the press statement, but he thinks that maybe he was scared that Mikey would break on him. And Mikey is just reminded how much of a coward his brother is. 

Pete and Patrick stay in bed with him, turning on the television and keeping the volume on low as Pete and Patrick take turns holding him. Patrick runs out to get all of Mikey’s favorite foods but he doesn’t eat them. He thinks he should go to an AA meeting because all he wants to do is drink a bottle of whiskey and pass out on the floor. He just wants to check out for a while. 

“I know, baby,” Pete coos, kissing his tear stained cheeks. 

They let him lock himself in the bathroom and cry in the bathtub, trying not to wail so loud that the sounds echo off the tiles, but he’s sure they can hear him anyway. And he lets Pete answer all his phone calls, when he quiets down to just hiccups and sniffles, he hears him telling Gerard that he’s doing alright and that he doesn’t want to talk to anyone just yet. 

And it gets bad again. Mikey loses his two month sobriety chip by himself in his house. He changes the locks on his front door and spends the next week ignoring phone calls from Pete and Patrick, and especially Gerard. He doesn’t get any from Ray or Frank, and he scoffs at the idea that they were ever family. 

Gerard comes over to bang on the door when his key doesn’t get him in. “Michael James Way, open this fucking door!”

“Tell me more how I’m just an  _ idea _ !” Mikey screams, throwing his bottle of Jack Daniels at the door. 

“I’m going to call the cops if you don’t let us in,” Gerard warns loudly. 

“It’s my fucking house!” 

He hears arguing on the other side of the door then Pete says softly, “Babe, open the door.”

“Go on tour and leave me alone,” he says. 

He knows Patrick wants to yell too, that he always shows his worry through anger, but Pete must be giving him a look because he speaks softly too when he says, “We want you to come with us. We’re not leaving you behind.”

Mikey stumbles at that and sags against the wall, sinking to the floor and curling into himself. 

“Mikey, let us in,” Pete says again, turning the doorknob. 

Mikey hesitates like he’s stubbornly making sure it’s his choice when he gets up and stumbles to the door, turning the lock and then falling into Pete’s arms when the door opens. Patrick ushers Gerard away and Mikey can hear them talking softly as Pete takes Mikey back inside and carries him up the stairs to his bedroom. He knows that Pete is taking inventory of how messy the place is, how there’s takeout containers and alcohol bottles everywhere--prescription bottles littered on his bedroom floor that don’t belong to him. 

Pete doesn’t say anything about them, just takes him into the bathroom and turns on the shower. “Need to sober you up a bit, Mikeyway, and no offense, but you kind of stink.”

Mikey snorts and holds his arms up for Pete to take his shirt off. He’s been walking around in the same Jaws t-shirt and his boxers for about a week. Pete winkles his nose at the old boxers and tosses them into the trash with a grin, leaning in and kisses Mikey’s forehead before undressing himself and stepping into the shower with Mikey. 

He lets Mikey sag against him as he washes his hair and coats his strands in the stupidly expensive conditioner he buys since he bleached his hair. Pete takes his time rubbing in Mikey’s body wash, grinning a little when he recognizes that it’s the same one that Patrick uses. And then he just holds him under the hot water, letting it wash over his tired body. 

“Patrick wants to pack up your things and move you into our house,” Pete says softly. 

Mikey sniffles and presses his face into Pete’s neck. 

He chuckles, “Yeah, that’s what I thought you’d say.”

“Too soon,” Mikey mumbles. 

“I know, but you’re hardly here anyway,” Pete says, “And when you are, you’re drinking yourself stupid.”   


“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”   
  
“See what I mean? Stupid,” he teases then he sighs, “You were doing so well.”

Mikey shrugs. 

“You’ll get there again, it’s ok to mess up,” Pete says, “I mess up all the time.”

“Used to.”

“No,” Pete says, “I still have my moments.”

“Haven’t seen them.”

“Because you’re not living with me,” he teases, nudging Mikey’s head off his shoulder so he can turn off the water and get them out of the shower. 

He dresses him in comfy pajamas and puts slippers on his feet before pulling out a duffel bag from the closet. 

“What are you doing?”   


“Probably best if you’re not alone right now,” Pete says, packing clothes away, “Gerard is talking about sending you to rehab but Patrick is trying to talk him down.”

Mikey scoffs and lays back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. “You remember those glow in the dark stars that stick on the wall?”

“Yeah,” Pete says, zipping up Mikey’s bag, “Why?”   


“Gerard used to stick them on the ceiling in our room when we were kids. He always put the most on my side of the room so I had something to look at when I couldn’t sleep or was sad. He always was making the darkest moments seem so bright.”

“Mikey,” Pete says softly. 

Mikey sits up and looks around at the bedroom that he used to share with Alicia, at the closet full of clothes from My Chem, he can see a couple of boxes sitting in there that have some of his favorite memorabilia--his Black Parade jacket, his red bandana, the leather jacket he wore as Kobra Kid. He gets out of bed and grabs another bag, stuffing more clothes in that don’t mean anything. Takes it down to the living room to shove the movies in that Pete doesn’t already have. 

“What are you doing?”   


“I don’t want to come back here.”

“Ok,” Pete says softly, letting Mikey pack up what he can and promises he’ll come back and get the rest of Mikey’s things, but he just shakes his head. 

“Just donate the rest.”

“Mikey--”

“I don’t want it.”

“Ok.”

*

April is filled with Mikey sitting in Pete’s studio as he sends files back and forth with David, trying to keep himself busy in between therapy sessions and Fall Out Boy’s frantic rehearsal schedule. He apologizes for his breakdown by draping himself over Pete and clinging to him when they’re watching movies and sitting in record stores with Patrick and letting him play jazz for Mikey even though he doesn’t like it. 

He creates a little routine for himself so that he’s not wallowing in bed all day and tries to follow the rhythm that Patrick and Pete have set. He gets up with Pete to make breakfast and drink coffee while Patrick sleeps in. They sit outside on the patio because Pete thinks the fresh air is good for Mikey even though Mikey tells him it’s mostly smog. 

They don’t talk about My Chem or the breakup, and Pete doesn’t try to relate by talking to him about Fall Out Boy and the hiatus, because it usually just ends in a fight. They just talk about the future. Mikey asks about the reunion show and how Patrick is handling the stress. Pete tells him how they had to redesign their tour because the original venues they had picked out were too small. Tells him that the kids are excited again, and the look on Pete’s face is too pure for Mikey to even feel jealous. He wants this for them. 

Especially Patrick. 

Patrick, who has been trying to keep his nervous energy under wraps for Mikey, but Mikey’s learning to read him like he knows Pete. 

“I don’t want a repeat of what happened,” Patrick tells him when they’re laying in bed one lazy Sunday. Pete is with Bronx at the park, so Patrick and Mikey have been dozing in and out of conversations. 

“Don’t let it,” Mikey says softly, taking Patrick’s hand to trace lines in his palm. He’s finding out that getting clean means he has a lot of pent up energy. 

“It’s not that easy,” Patrick huffs. 

“What do you want to be different?”

“I don’t want to stand on the sidelines this time,” Patrick says, “But I don’t want to take over the music writing either...I want there to be a balance.”

Mikey nods and kisses his fingertips. 

“And…” Patrick trails off, before huffing the way he does when he gets too worked up. 

Mikey sits up and straddles his lap, leaning down to rest his forehead against his. “Tell me.”

“There’s so much pressure,” Patrick admits, closing his eyes, “If we get this wrong, if the kids stop caring, if we stop being relevant, if the songs aren’t--”

“Trick, the kids are so pumped you guys had to get bigger venues,” Mikey tells him gently, “And the songs are beautiful, you didn’t get anything wrong.”

“You didn’t say anything about being relevant…”

Mikey snorts and Patrick grins too, “I’m in my thirties now, I don’t know what’s relevant anymore.”

The month blurs by and the next thing he knows, Mikey is sitting next to Patrick as he blows out his candles on his cake, thinking about how he didn’t call his brother on his birthday. 

And then May comes around and Mikey is standing backstage at their reunion show in Chicago. They hid out in Patrick’s condo until Andy had pounded on the door that they were going to be late. Mikey holds onto Pete’s hand as Patrick paces backstage doing vocal exercises that Pete keeps staring at, and Mikey learns it’s because Patrick never warms up. 

“He’s so nervous,” Pete whispers. 

“How are you?” Mikey asks, tugging on his hand. 

Pete hums and kisses his forehead. “How are you?”

Mikey laughs, “No, today is about you. You can reevaluate my mental state in the morning.”

“You say the dirtiest things, Mikeyway,” he murmurs, walking them back into a wall with Mikey giggling. Mikey remembers this Pete from Warped all those years ago, how he gets all giddy and handsy before a show. It’s like he’s already drunk off the crowd before he even sees them and it’s infectious, Mikey leans into his touch, licks the excitement from his lips and lets it warm his belly, chasing out the bitter jealousy that has no business to take over his body tonight. 

Tonight is about them. 

Mikey reaches for Patrick before he walks out on stage and kisses him hard, cupping his blushing cheeks and readjusting his glasses when he’s done with him before nudging him towards the stage. He meets Pete’s eyes and beams at him, feels his heart warm at the way that Patrick looks back at him too as the screaming starts. Like they’re reminding him that he still matters even though they have all this. 

And then they launch into their first song and Mikey has to sit because watching them perform is almost like watching them in bed. They crash into each other and lean against each other like they’re the only people in the world that can breathe the way they breathe. That they share a heartbeat that only they can hear. And the way they look at each other, fuck, it takes Mikey’s breath away because the love that he sees there is almost too much. 

He can’t stop smiling at the way Patrick is just glowing, all the insecurities from the weeks leading up to this are gone and he’s in his element. Mikey’s not sure he’s ever seen Patrick perform like this, without any sense of self, it’s like he’s transcended into Pete’s words and he’s just living in their masterpiece. Like he’s reliving moments that they’ve created through their songs, that he’s sinking into the crowd and looking back up at the stage like it was all worth it in the end and that he’d do it all again. 

And Pete. Pete is moving around the stage like he’s a kid again. But it’s not like that summer, it’s more than that. It’s like Pete is never aging, that he’s never falling into the trap that Mikey keeps making for himself. That there are no time limits on anything and that he can circle back to that summer just by plucking a few chords on the bass or he can project into the future with a smile that crinkles his eyes. That he can lean against Patrick and blend it all together into something that Mikey doesn’t have words for, because that was always Pete’s thing. And Mikey’s thing was just to be amazed by him. 

Mikey is still sitting on the floor as they close with their final song, and Patrick turns to look at Mikey when he sings “Me and Pete” like there’s a name missing. 

*

“Mikey, babe, you don’t need all these hats,” Pete sighs, digging through Mikey’s bag for the tour. 

“Ok, well then you don’t need all those shoes,” he counters. 

Pete frowns. “I know how to pack my tour bag, you’re the one who ran out of room.”

“You let Patrick pack his hats!” 

“My hats are fashionable,” Patrick jumps in, “You wear ballcaps.”

“Who says ballcaps? You’re so fucking midwestern, it’s not even funny,” Mikey says, taking out some clothes to make room for his comics. 

“No, you need clothes, you’re not wearing the same three shirts for the tour,” Pete chuckles. 

“I’ll borrow yours.”

“I’ll just get you another bag!” Patrick huffs, getting up from the couch and going upstairs. 

“Now you’ve done it,” Pete teases, “Patrick is going to release his packing wrath on you. Why do you think I learned to pack so efficiently?”

“He’s not going to make me leave behind my hats is he?” 

Pete grins and shakes his head, “You’re such a dork.”

“But you love me,” Mikey says, kissing him. 

“I do,” Pete agrees against his mouth. 

“I love you,” Mikey says softly, ducking away to look at his comics like he’s trying to decide which ones to pack. 

“Hey,” Pete says gently, reaching out to cup his chin, “Say that again.”

It was something that never worked with them when they were younger. Pete always pushed and Mikey ran away. Mikey was never comfortable talking about his feelings, always preferred to sink off to the side and let Gerard be the emotional one for them. He knew all of Mikey’s feelings anyway, he could write them into songs and express the both of them, but he couldn’t do this for Mikey. And Mikey was starting to step out of his brother’s shadow to stand on his own two feet. 

But this wasn’t Pete pushing Mikey anywhere he wasn’t ready to go, Mikey followed along willingly as he repeated, “I love you.”

*

Being on tour when he doesn’t have anywhere to be is jarring. He feels like he’s floating in purgatory where time doesn’t exist, where it blurs together into miles and screaming cities. Where his back aches in that familiar sense from sleeping in a bunk instead of bed, only his arms are sore too from Pete curling into his bunk. 

Patrick takes his sleep very seriously, so he doesn’t really like to cuddle in the bunks because it gets too claustrophobic for him. Pete seems to have grown extra limbs since the last time they’ve done this because he’s extra clingy and Mikey wonders if it has something to do with him ticking more sober days off. 

When they’re at soundcheck, Mikey likes to go on walks around whatever city they’re in. He used to always explore stores with Gerard, and it still feels like he’s got him next to him as he picks up things that look like Gerard would find interesting. Patrick bought another bag for Mikey to store all the trinkets that Mikey brings back on the tour bus, and neither Pete nor Patrick say anything about it. 

And Mikey’s hunger is coming back, much to Pete’s delight because it means he has someone to eat messy barbeque with when they get into Kansas. And he likes that he has more to grab onto when they get hotel nights. “Was worried you were going to waste away, Mikeyway,” Pete murmurs, pushing him into the mattress. 

Patrick is in the shower and Pete seems keen on getting things started without him, knowing that Patrick never likes surprises, but he always likes these kinds. The kind where Mikey has Pete withering under his mouth, muscles pulled taunt and his mouth hanging open on a forgotten plea. 

Mikey looks up and watches Patrick stand in the middle of the room, just watching for a moment before Mikey pulls his slick fingers out of Pete and turns them onto their sides. Pete groans as Mikey slides back down between his thighs and takes him back in his mouth, bobbing his head messily until he feels Pete stiffen and then wind tighter and tighter as Patrick pushes into him. Mikey lets them find the rhythm, relaxing his throat and letting Pete rock into him from Patrick’s momentum. 

Pete barely gets out a warning before Mikey’s mouth is flooded and he’s swallowing greedily. Patrick slides out of Pete and reaches for Mikey over him, kissing him hungrily and licking the taste of Pete out of his mouth. 

“Fuck,” Pete mutters dreamily, then pulls Mikey down over him to kiss him as Patrick spreads his legs so that he’s straddling Pete’s thighs. Mikey cries out into Pete’s mouth as he feels Patrick lick him open, alternating his tongue and fingers and just teasing over that spot inside him that makes Mikey tremble against Pete’s chest. 

Pete reaches for Mikey at the same time that Patrick rests his forehead against his shoulder and sinks into him slowly. They hover like that. Pete breathing heavily under Mikey with his hand wrapped around the base of Mikey’s cock as he lets himself adjust around Patrick. Patrick presses gentle kisses down Mikey’s spine and pulls out until he’s just got the tip in before thrusting back into him, pushing him forward and sliding him against Pete’s grip. 

Mikey gasps and Pete nods against his neck and tells Patrick to do that again. And then Mikey’s at their mercy, his favorite place to be. 

Later when he’s laying against Patrick, pretending to sleep while Pete is typing out emails he’ll think that he almost feels whole again. That he didn’t believe Pete when he said that he’d heal from the band’s break, that he’ll see that maybe it was worth it. 

It’s not until Pete finally climbs into bed that Mikey sneaks out of the hotel room and sits out in the parking lot with a soda instead of a beer and dials his brother. 

“Mikes? Do you know what time it is? Are you ok?”

“Do you remember when we played Milwaukee that last time? You and I snuck off and drank really awful beer and we were so mad because everyone kept telling us how great Mikwaukee beer was?”

“Mikey, why are you telling me--”

“Do you remember?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

Mikey grins and covers his eyes like he can melt away the parking lot he’s in, he’s not even sure what city they’re in tonight. “I just,” he whispers, “I just was thinking that was the last time it was fun.”

He remembers how Gerard danced on stage that night, how he bounced from one edge to the other, headbanging with Ray, leaning against Frank, and smiling at Mikey like this was what they would be doing for the rest of their lives. 

And then he had woken up the next morning in another city and he looked at his brother and saw a skeleton in bright hair dye. 

“I don’t think I wanted to see what it was doing to us,” Mikey whispers. 

“I know.”

“Are you happier?”

“I would be if you called me more,” Gerard says softly. 

Mikey sniffles and nods. 

“Where are you?”

“I’m not sure. Somewhere in the south.”

“Humid?”

“Fuck yeah,” Mikey huffs a laugh and he takes his hand away from his eyes, “Sometimes I wake up on the bus and I forget where I am. I keep getting out of my bunk and reaching for you.”

“I’m still here, Mikes,” Gerard promises. 

“I think…” Mikey trails off, wrapping an arm around his waist, “I was thinking that maybe, I don’t, well--”

“What are you thinking?” He encourages softly, in the way that reminds him of when he would sit in the basement with him as teenagers. Back when Mikey’s insecurities started to take root and he stopped talking as much. Gerard would sit there with him and ask him things because everyone else had forgotten to, had forgotten him because he didn’t make a sound. 

“Can I stay with you for a couple of days when I get home.”

There’s a pause then, “Of course.”

Mikey hangs up the phone and climbs his way back to Pete and Patrick, crawls into the bed and wiggles his way in between them. Pete wakes up and frowns when he sees that Mikey is more dressed than he was when he last saw him. 

He pulls him into his arms, cradling Mikey to his chest and resting his chin on top of his head. “I got you,” he whispers, “You’re not alone.”

*

Days blur together until Mikey isn’t sure it’s still summer at all, and when they get up north it’s really hard to tell. He had missed the magic of being on the road, how the world just stopped spinning for him and nothing really could touch him. But being on the road always pulled everyone taut and eventually they all snapped. 

Especially for Pete and Patrick. Mikey would have thought they were enemies some days if he hadn’t been in bed with both of them before, if he had been blind and didn’t see the spark between them even when they argued. Because when they were in the room together it felt like Mikey’s whole body had rubbed against a staticky television. Some days it was something stupid like Patrick not being able to find his favorite headphones and blaming Pete for using it last, sometimes it was Pete getting peeved by Patrick’s bad mood in the morning. 

And Mikey tried not to feel slighted that it was never directed at him, because that would be sort of demented. To want someone to fight with him, that would be a bit fucked up. But it wasn’t like that, he just wanted them to stop treating him like a porcelain doll. He wanted them to yell at him too, wanted to hear the emotion in their voice. He wanted them to fight for him too.

He just didn’t expect it like this. 

Didn’t expect to be under Patrick’s red face and dodging shoes he was throwing around the bus with Pete trying to talk him down softly. “I said that I wanted to work on the new songs and you were out with him!”

“I told you we were going to get lunch,” Pete says in a calm voice, not looking at Mikey. He’s standing between the two of them, his hands framing Patrick’s anguished face. 

Patrick doesn’t look any less appeased, so Pete murmurs, “I’m not just yours.”

His eyes narrow and Pete adds, “Just like you’re not just mine.”

“I’m not his either,” Patrick mumbles, trying to pull away. 

Mikey frowns. “What?”

“You’re only here for Pete,” he says, getting more worked up and Mikey’s mind just goes blank because...what?

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Mikey--” Pete starts. 

“No, what the fuck, Patrick?” Mikey says, pulling Pete off Patrick so he can stand in front of him. 

“You’ve always been in love with him,” Patrick says, “You’re just here to get him however you can.”

“Fuck you,” Mikey chokes out, pushing him a little. Which was the wrong thing to do because Patrick shoves him. Hard. 

“No, I’m not fucking  _ stupid _ . How does this”--he gestures to the space between him and Mikey-- “make any sense to you? We don’t make sense, Mikey. We have no reason to be together other than Pete. You wouldn’t even bat an eye at me if it wasn’t for him.”

“That’s not true,” Mikey says, dumbfounded. How could Patrick not see it? How could he not see the way that Mikey looks at him, it’s not like he had been especially subtle. Or how he always curls into Patrick when they’re laying in bed. How Mikey always burrows against him when he first wakes up in the morning, like he needs his Patrick fix to start the day. How does he not see how Mikey gets lost in his voice when he talks about music he’s really passionate about, how he can’t help but smile when he hears him laugh. How he feels like he’s going to melt away whenever he kisses him, like Patrick is taking his soul with him and Mikey gives it willingly because he knows he’ll take care of it. 

He reaches out and grabs Patrick’s hand, hangs on tight when Patrick tries to pull away like Mikey’s burnt him. He presses his hand up against his chest over his heart. “I know it’s been shattered to pieces, that it’s been bruised and it’s ugly, twisted, and mutilated at this point, but it’s just as much yours as it is his.”

Patrick blinks slowly at him, and Mikey sees the fight leave his eyes, because it was never the fight he wanted. Patrick gets angry and he pushes, but Mikey knows that he doesn’t want to have to, that it’s this defensive mechanism, it’s his way to self destruct in the same way that Mikey reaches for booze and pills, in the same way that Pete reaches for the wrong people. They were all broken, scraped up bodies encapsulating troubled souls and Mikey doesn’t want Patrick to have to keep fighting for him when he was already his. 

“C’mere,” he says gently, pulling Patrick to him. Patrick tugs back at first but he glances off to the side at Pete and then back to Mikey, then leans into him and exhales loudly like he’s been holding his breath all this time. 

Mikey hugs him tightly, presses his face into the side of his head to feel that feather light hair and inhale the earthy scent of him. To press his lips to his ear and whisper, “I love you,” before sealing it away with a kiss to his cheek like he was tucking away a secret. 

The rest of the guys give them space the rest of the way to Denver, which isn’t exactly easy on a bus, so Mikey appreciates it. He stays glued to Patrick’s side in the lounge, resting his head on his shoulder as he tries to keep busy on his laptop like he isn't freaking out. Because Patrick isn’t that great at telling anyone how he’s feeling either, and maybe that was another thing they had in common. Which was sort of working against them since Mikey liked to bottle everything inside and burn until he was nothing but ash and Patrick liked to erupt and spew lava at anyone in his vicinity. 

And Pete stays up in the front of the bus, which isn’t a big deal but it is at the same time. Because they’ve paired off before, Mikey’s spent a day with just one of them and they’ve had plenty of alone time without Mikey around. They’ve never negotiated what this was or how it should work, and maybe Mikey should have said something instead of waiting around for Pete to say anything since he’s so shit at relationships. But there’s a part of him that likes to think that they sort of all get each other. They know what each other needs. Pete knows that Patrick needs to feel that Mikey is his too. That they’re allowed to love each other, that they  _ can _ love each other without Pete in the mix. 

When they show up to Denver and unload for soundcheck, Pete pulls Patrick into a hug and Mikey makes himself scarce. He walks around and finds a diner to sit on his phone in and drink black coffee. He pulls up where to find an AA meeting and sends a quick text to the guys so that they don’t freak out and think he went missing. 

And he wonders if this is what it means to heal. That it’s fucking messy and there’s days where Mikey can’t make sense of anything. Where the people he cares about make him go crazy and he feels like all his emotions are hanging out of his body like an open wound. There’s some days where he feels like he’s learning to live all over again. After years of being nothing but part of a big corporate machine, part of a money making entity where he wasn’t his own person. Where he was the bass player of My Chemical Romance or Gerard Way’s kid brother, and it’s sort of scary to just be Mikey now. It’s hard to relearn things that he likes to do. Hard to wake up in the mornings on a bus that’s not taking him to a My Chem show. Scary that he can get up and walk away and go anywhere without a camera shoved in his face or someone calling him because he’s late to soundcheck. Terrifying that he can just sit in a diner and drink coffee and just fucking breathe because there’s nothing on his shoulders weighing it down. 

Terrifying, scary, and hard. 

But freeing. 

*

“I’m crawling into bed and you two aren’t going to get me out of bed for a month,” Patrick grumbles, dropping his bag by the front door and heading straight upstairs. 

Pete shakes his head, smiling fondly after him. “He’s such an old man,” he says, dumping his back next to Patrick’s. 

Mikey sets his down too, well, besides one. “I was thinking about…”

“Yeah, babe, go see your brother,” Pete says, throwing an arm around his shoulders and pressing a quick kiss to his forehead. “I’m going to try and sleep anyway.”

“Try,” Mikey smiles, hugging him back and heading out to the driveway. 

Driving after being on tour is always really weird. The brakes feel too loose and his steering wheel feels too big in his hands, but he makes the familiar trip to his brother’s house. Well, it used to be familiar, but he hasn’t been over here in a long time. 

It’s really late and he feels sort of shitty for ringing the doorbell since he knows that Bandit is probably asleep, but Lyn-Z answers the door and pulls him into a hug right away. “Hey, kid,” he whispers, “Where’ve you been?”

“Around,” Mikey manages because Lyn-Z’s never been terribly affectionate towards him and it shakes him up that maybe he’s been sort of a reclusive dick if she’s reacting this way. But he doesn’t really have time to digest that because he sees his brother standing over her shoulder and he pulls out of her arms and just hesitates in the foyer. 

Gerard smiles shyly and then looks down at the bag that Mikey is holding. “What’s that?”

Mikey shrugs like it doesn’t mean anything, “Souvenirs.”

Gerard huffs a laugh and nods towards his office. “Let’s see then.”

They spend the rest of the night going through the bag that Mikey had been accumulating on the road with Pete and Patrick. He tells him about each city they went to as if they hadn’t been there together, but things looked different this time. And part of that is because of Pete and Patrick, but he also thinks part of it is that he was looking at the world with his own eyes instead of through the band’s eyes. He considered everything as Mikey instead of being an extension of a band. 

Gerard beams at him when Mikey tells him about Pete and Patrick. Tells him about the planets and the magic that they are. Tells him about the way Pete makes him feel like he’s younger but still present in the moment. About Patrick making him treat himself nicer. How the two of them haven’t healed him, but shown him that he deserves to be whole again, that they’ve given him the tools and space to do it himself. Because it’ll always mean more that way. 

And Gerard is almost crying when they push into the early hours of the morning when Mikey’s voice is shaking and hoarse from talking for so long. Talking more than he has in years about everything he’s learned about himself. How he’s going to make music again, but it’s going to be on his terms. How he’s learned to love someone who wasn’t Alicia, and he’s not scared of ruining them. That he’s not sure what’s going to happen in the future, but that’s ok because the worst has already happened and he lived through that. 

“Mikes,” Gerard breathes. 

“Thank you for ending the band before it ended you,” Mikey says, not looking at him, “I almost lost you in Japan, I didn’t--I guess I didn’t want to see that it could have happened again.”

“It didn’t.”

“I know,” Mikey says, picking at his shoes, “Pete and Patrick have a few days in Australia, I was wondering if I could stay here while they’re gone?”

Gerard snorts. “You never did like Australia.”

“Too many bugs.”

When he gets back home the next morning, he crawls into bed with Pete and Patrick. Patrick stirs and hooks his ankle around Mikey’s leg, pulling him closer. “Feel better?”

Mikey nods and burrows into him, pulling the blankets over their heads. 

Patrick grins and kisses his forehead. “Love you,” he murmurs. 

“I’d love you both more if you went back to bed,” Pete grumbles and Mikey giggles against Patrick, hiding his face into his chest and pressing his lips to the heartbeat that’s steady under him. 

*

“Ok, I think that’s everything besides a few boxes up in your closet,” Pete says, taping up the final box in his living room. 

Patrick is playing Tetris with the boxes that they’ve managed to get into his car, huffing and kicking one that’s still on the ground next to the rear tire. 

“I hope there wasn’t anything breakable in that one,” Pete says. 

Mikey shrugs. “See if there’s room in Gee’s car I guess, I’ll grab the last of the boxes upstairs,” he says. 

Pete blows him a kiss and winks before carrying out a box. “G-Way, I need your car!”

Mikey laughs quietly to himself and climbs the stairs to his bedroom. He knows what boxes are left, they’re the only ones that no one would touch without Mikey’s permission. He sighs as he digs them out and looks at everything he’s gathered over the years. And it fucks with him a little bit, that twelve years of his life fits in two boxes. That some of his best memories are in here along with memories that still haunt his dreams. 

He hears a pair of steps coming into the room and he sighs, “I’m coming.”

“We weren’t hovering,” Pete says quickly and Patrick elbows him in the side. 

“Dork,” Patrick mutters. 

Mikey tapes up the boxes and picks on up. Patrick grabs the other. “Where are we taking these?” 

There’s been a few boxes left out by the curb for the trash pick up, all the things that Alicia left behind or clothes that Mikey has no business wearing anymore. 

“To Gerard’s car,” Mikey says and he grins at how hard his guys try to keep a neutral face. 

Gerard is leaning against his car as they load up the final two boxes. “Can you keep those last two at your place?” Mikey asks him.

Gerard doesn’t have to ask what they are, he just nods. “Sure. Am I following you? I got some of the boxes Patrick couldn’t smash into submission.”

Patrick rolls his eyes, “Whatever. Yeah, follow us.”

“I’m going to do one more walk through,” Mikey says, as Gerard gets in his car and Patrick heads to his. 

Pete is waiting for him by the front door. He follows Mikey inside and double checks some of the rooms to make sure they didn’t forget anything. Mikey doesn’t pause to let the memories wash over him, he keeps his head to the floor and only looks up when he gets to the living room and sees the records glued to the wall. 

“That’s going to take the property value down,” Pete says. 

“Whatever, I bet they’ll get more off it. ‘Mikey Way’ glued those by hand.”

“Who?” Pete teases as he goes into the kitchen, ignoring Mikey rolling his eyes. He opens the fridge and snorts. “You still have this orange juice in here.”

“Leave it. I’m ready to go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on my [tumblr](https://throwupsparkles.tumblr.com/).


End file.
